


Locked Up

by BarPurple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Dreaming, F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma's arrested Hook, now comes the tricky part of disarming the pirate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locked Up

Emma twisted the hook free from the brace and dropped it on the desk. She’s already relieved him of his cutlass, the empty sheath now flapping by his leg.

“Any other weapons?”

Hook smirks at her.

“Why don’t you search me and find out, lass?”

He leans back on his heels slightly, arms spread in invitation. Emma rolls her eyes and pats down his sides, trying not to feel the heat rolling off him, nor inhale to deeply his heady scent of salt and musk. The first pocket of his coat turns out to be filled with all manner of blades and lock picks; this could take for ever. She shakes her head and steps back from him, her arms folding across her chest.

“Strip.”

Hook gives her one of those looks that’s two parts cocky and one part leer. His tongue drifts slowly across his bottom lip, and then with a shrug he sheds his huge leather coat. It rattles as he slings it over the desk and there’s a faint sloshing sound that can only be from his rum flask. His head cocks at her and he waits.

“And the vest.”

The damn thing doesn’t look like it has pockets but she wouldn’t put it passed him to have yet more weapons tucked away somehow. His hand goes to the buckle of the wide leather belt and she can’t help but be impressed by the nimble way his fingers work the leather free of the fancy metal. He pulls it free with a roll of his hips and drops it on top of his coat. His hand slowly snaps the vest’s metal clasps free and lets the leather hang open from a moment before he tugs it from his broad shoulders. It goes on the pile with the rest of his clothes. There’s that cocky grin again, coupled with a suggestive gleam in his eyes.

Emma juts her chin towards his shirt. Hook catches his bottom lip between his teeth and makes a sinful humming sound. He doesn’t bother with the few buttons that are done up, just pulls the shirt free from where its tucked into his leather trousers and grabs the back of his collar. He takes his time pulling the black velvet over his head, giving Emma a chance to run her eyes of the taut muscles of his stomach and chest. The thick dark hair doesn’t stop at his chest; it trails across his stomach in a treasure trail that disappears into the waistband of his trousers in sinful suggestion. She knows he’s caught her ogling by the toothy grin on his face when he emerges from under his shirt. It takes a moment to free the fabric from the brace on his arm, but then the shirt whispers on to the growing pile of clothes. Without Emma prompting Hook undoes the empty sword belt and throws it aside. His thumb hooks over his waistband and Emma suddenly wonders how she’s let things get this far.

“That’ll do buddy.” 

She pushes him backwards into the cell, her thumb maybe caressing his chest in a defiantly non-sheriffy way. Hook chuckles at her, frowning slightly as she slams the cell door shut. 

“So, you’ve got me disrobed and at your mercy, now what?”

“You stay there.”

Hook tuts and drops himself onto the cot. There’s silence in the station for all of two minutes.

“You could at least give me my rum, lass.”

Emma ignores him and bends over the desk as she sorts through his endless pockets.

“Never mind, the view is plenty intoxicating.”

Emma straightens up, nipping her tongue between her teeth in frustration. She spins towards the cells, but the snarky comment dies on her lips at the sight of Hook. His legs are spread, his hookless arm tucked behind his head and god damn him his hand is palming his cock through his leathers. What the actual hell?

“Stop that.”

“Make me.”

She doesn’t move, and he ups the ante by sliding his hand into his trousers, a slight gasp escaping his lips as his hand makes contact with his cock. Emma strides towards the cells, the keys in her hand. His hand moves out of his trousers. She thinks maybe he’s going to behave, but instead he slowly undoes the laces that hold his fly together and dips his hand back under the leather with a groan that is certainly illegal. The cell door bangs open and Emma crosses the cell like a fury. He frees his hand, raising it to halt her.

“Alright, steady on, Swan. I was just teasing.”

She moves fast and catches his wrist twisting it to the side and locking the cuffs in place around it and the bars to his right. He tugs against the chain and quirks his eyebrows at her.

“You do enjoy having me bound, don’t you?”

His eyes drop down to his crotch and Emma has to fight not to follow the gesture.

“Give me a hand, love.”

Her eyes drop to his open trousers and without her knowing why her hand reaches out towards his exposed member. Her fingertips stroke along the hard length.

“Emma.”

“EMMA!”

Emma jerks awake to find Mary Margaret standing over her, the worry clear on her features even in the half light of the room.

“What?”

“You called out in your sleep.”

“What did I say?”

“Hook. Bad dream?”

“Just weird. I’m fine.”

Mary Margaret nods and tucks the comforter around Emma in a motherly fashion.

“Get some sleep. We’ll find out what Hook and Cora are up to in the morning.”

As Emma settles down into the warmth of her bed she wonders just what the hell her sleeping mind thinks its playing at. If she has the slightest pang of regret that Mary Margaret woke her before things got really weird, well that’s going to be kept to herself.


End file.
